


Break

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [29]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan receives an unexpected summons from Emma Frost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break

Logan strode cheerfully away from the Rec Room, having just spent a very pleasant afternoon taking Kevin for every penny in his pocket in a very one-sided game of pool. Kevin was an enthusiastic if not highly-skilled player and he had quickly paid up with no more than a rueful smile at his loss, which was more than Logan could say for most of the other idiots in the room. It was one of the reasons that Logan (rather reluctantly, it must be admitted) liked the other man: Kevin was straightforward when it mattered. Sure, he enjoyed his tricks and deceptions as much as anyone else (probably more, Logan thought with chagrin, remembering the unfortunate incident of the pseudo-beer) but only when he could afford to do so. Logan prided himself on being a somewhat good judge of character and he could tell that Sydney was a man to be relied on in a pinch … as long as you were counted among his friends, that is. Logan wasn’t aware of Kevin having any enemies but, considering Sydney’s personality, in some ways this was just as telling. Kevin was a friendly and easy-going kind of guy, sure, but he was also devious as fuck, and Logan wouldn’t envy the person who got on his wrong side. 

Hell, Logan thought wryly, sometimes even being on his good side was hard enough. 

Deep in thought as he was, it took him a moment to realise that he was not alone. A movement in the corner of his eye suddenly made him jerk his head up and there, mere feet away from him, stood the Head of Dollhouse Security, Victor Creed, watching him with a thoughtful expression on his face. The sight of him caused Logan to tense up almost imperceptibly before his shoulders loosened and he straightened up with a scowl. Creed was surprisingly stealthy for a man of such considerable bulk, he thought sourly.

‘Howlett,’ Creed greeted him with a friendly nod, stepping nearer as he did so. ‘Is everything well?’

Logan eyed Creed warily before answering. ‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, giving him a slow nod in return. He paused then, waiting for Creed to pick up the conversation or else go on his way. When he was met with nothing but silence, however, Logan shrugged and turned to leave himself, only to be arrested by the sound of Creed’s voice.

‘Miss Frost would like to see you,’ he said conversationally, as if he were remarking on the weather. ‘In her office. Sooner, rather than later, she said.’

Logan’s shoulders immediately slumped and he grimaced, wondering what had got Frost’s frilly white panties (and how he’d hated Kevin for that one-sided, vomit-inducing conversation in which the other Handler had gleefully speculated about the nature of Her Worship’s undergarments) in a twist this time. He could swear that not a single one of the other Handlers had ever been hauled over to Frost’s office even a fraction of the number of times that he had. 

He couldn’t say that he much appreciated the special attention, either.

‘She say what she wants?’ he growled instead, firmly putting his irritation to one side in order to scrutinise Creed’s face.

Creed shrugged.

‘Nope,’ he said, with what sounded like a complete lack of curiosity. ‘Just that you should get over to her office. Immediately. She didn’t tell and I didn’t ask.’

Logan could believe it. Frost had a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy about pretty much everything and Creed had never struck him as having the most inquiring of minds.

He glanced down at his watch and scowled. He usually went to visit Charles at this time and although he didn’t flatter himself that his Active would actually notice much if he was late, he still didn’t like the disruption to his schedule and every stubborn bone in his body was clamouring for him to ignore the summons and continue on his way. Rationally, however, he knew that he would obey. The summons was from _Frost_ , after all, and chances were that what she had to say to him was important. It wasn’t as if she was the type who enjoyed making light conversation or engaging with others when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. In fact, she was even worse than Logan when it came to that.

Logan closed his eyes and sighed, resigned. It looked like his visit to Charles would have to wait just a little bit longer. 

He glanced up at Creed.

‘Well then,’ he said, deliberately dragging his words out in a lazy drawl. ‘I guess I shouldn’t keep the lady waiting.’

Creed just stared at him, his face completely blank.

Logan let out a snort.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he muttered, beginning to turn away. ‘No need to talk my ear off, bub, I’m going.’

Creed continued to stare at him for a moment. Then, slowly, his face split into a wide grin, showing off every single one of his gleaming white teeth to their full effect.

‘You’d best run along,’ he said, still smiling unnervingly. Logan cast him a strange look before slowly moving away, trying not to show how very much he disliked having his back to Creed. The man was an unknown quantity and, pleasant as he had always been to Logan (at least _relatively_ ) Logan had never been able to rid himself of the itch he got under his skin whenever the man was around.

He took his time getting to Frost’s office; he didn’t dawdle as such, but neither did he rush there. Logan was a good soldier, yes, but he was no pet dog to come running whenever someone clicked their fingers at him, even if those fingers did belong to the well-manicured hand of House Director Emma ‘cross me and I eviscerate you’ Frost.

Coming to a stop outside her office, Logan raised his arm and rapped sharply on the door. He then waited for a brief moment before pushing it open and stepping in.

‘Frost,’ he greeted her, deliberately leaving out the honorific.

Emma looked up and smiled. Astoundingly, it seemed that, this once, she wasn’t going to call him out on his improper form of address.

‘Mr. Howlett,’ she greeted him pleasantly, watching him approach from her ever-present throne behind her desk. ‘I had hoped that I would see you soon. I trust Mr. Creed delivered the message to you in good time?’

Logan shrugged.

‘Don’t ask me,’ he muttered, shuffling his feet restlessly. ‘You’re the one that sent the message. You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.’ He met Emma’s eyes, allowing his impatience to shine through for a moment. ‘Can we quit with the small talk and get on with it already? Only I got places to be.’

Emma regarded him coolly but there was a gleam in her eye.

‘My, my,’ she murmured. ‘Someone’s tetchy.’ She slowly straightened up and reached out for an appointment book on her desk. ‘But perhaps we can remedy that, yes?’

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

‘We can?’ he asked sceptically, his eyes fixed on Emma with not a little suspicion.

Emma smiled.

‘Yes, we can,’ she answered, flicking through a few pages until she came to stop with a small hum of satisfaction. ‘Here we are,’ she announced, pleased. She then turned to face Logan, her hands clasped on the desk in front of her. ‘I am pleased to inform you, Mr. Howlett, that at the end of the month you will receive five days’ paid leave in addition to your previously allocated vacation time. This time is yours to do with as you wish. You will receive the full details in writing, of course, but I wanted to inform you of this personally in advance so that you could make arrangements should you wish to leave the country for a while,’ Emma’s gaze drifted slightly to somewhere over Logan’s shoulder. ‘I hear that Aruba is particularly nice, this time of the year. If you like that sort of thing, that is.’

Logan stared at her.

‘Hold up,’ he interrupted, causing Emma to pause obediently, cocking her head to one side in an attitude of rapt attention.

‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked, her voice bland.

Logan gave her a look.

‘I just got one question for you,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Why?’

Emma’s face expressed a look of detached bemusement.

‘Come again?’ she asked politely. 

‘I said, _why_?’ Logan repeated with a growl, stalking forward so that he stood directly in front of Emma’s desk. ‘What’s going on? Why are you so keen to get rid of me all of a sudden?’

Emma blinked.

‘Get rid of you?’ she repeated slowly, before letting out a short little laugh. ‘Mr. Howlett, you are positively paranoid. No,’ she shook her head briskly and Logan found that he much preferred her brusque professionalism to the blank detachment of moments before. ‘Let me assure you, Mr. Howlett, that there is nothing out of the ordinary here. Think of this as a reward for good and loyal service.’ She met Logan’s eyes. ‘You may not have fully comprehended this yet, but we reward the deserving here,’ she said in a quiet tone. ‘And do not think for a second that we have not noticed your commitment to us. I don’t think that you have taken one single day’s leave of absence since you joined us, have you, Mr. Howlett?’ 

Rather than feeling proud Logan found himself becoming strangely defensive.

‘Never had to,’ he said stiffly, raising his chin in the face of Emma’s unblinking stare. ‘I wasn’t ever sick. Strong constitution, see.’

Emma smiled. ‘So it seems,’ she murmured. 

Logan eyed her for a moment, silently considering what she had said. He frowned.

‘What about Charles?’ he asked abruptly.

Emma blinked. ‘What about Charles?’ she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

‘Who’ll be covering for me?’ Logan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. ‘Who’ll be looking after him?’

Emma raised a shoulder, shrugging with an impeccable lack of concern.

‘Charles will be fine,’ she said, and Logan could almost hear the small bite of impatience in her voice. ‘We won’t schedule him for anything, or if we do we’ll get one of the others to handle it. I really wouldn’t worry about it, Mr. Howlett.’ Her tone was bored now and her eyes had flicked over to the clock on the wall behind him; and just like that Logan knew that he was about to be dismissed.

‘I’ll just make my way out, then?’ he muttered, knowing that he was unlikely to get anything more out of her now.

Emma’s blue eyes zeroed back in on him.

‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘You do that. You will receive the details of your newly-allotted vacation time shortly, I should think. Don’t worry, Mr. Howlett – I assure you that you are only getting what you fully deserve.’

‘Yeah,’ Logan paused, one hand on the door. ‘That’s kinda what I was afraid of.’ And with that he left, determinedly not looking behind him.

His mind was buzzing. Something didn’t sit right. The sudden time off – not to mention Frost’s strange manner … Logan shook his head. 

He walked down the corridor and took a left, his body instinctively seeking out Charles even while his brain was focused elsewhere. Just as he turned around the bend, however, another pair of legs joined his, matching each of his strides with ease. Logan looked up and was barely surprised to see Victor Creed strolling along beside him, looking as cool as a fucking cucumber.

‘Second time in a day,’ Logan growled, raising an eyebrow without breaking his stride. ‘I feel special. There something you wanna tell me, Creed? Maybe ask me out to prom while you’re at it?’

Creed smirked at that, his thick lips parting to once again reveal his sharpened white teeth.

‘I just wanted to see how your meeting with Miss Frost went,’ he said easily. ‘And sorry, Howlett, but my dance card is full.’

Logan snorted.

‘I’m crying on the inside,’ he responded dryly, before sighing and shaking his head. ‘Frost was … Frost, I guess. Whatever that means.’ He gave Creed a sideways look. ‘Apparently I’ve been a good boy. I’m getting extra time off. With pay.’

Creed’s brow wrinkled as he drew it down into a frown.

‘Time off?’ he repeated, puzzled. His eyes searched Logan’s for some sort of deception. ‘With pay?’

‘Yeah,’ Logan said casually, his own eyes scrutinising Creed’s face. ‘At the end of the month. For about a week or so.’

Creed’s expression cleared almost immediately.

‘Oh,’ he said and nodded, smiling. ‘I get you. She’s clearing you for leave when you won’t be needed. Smart lady,’ he glanced over at Logan. ‘Miss Frost, I mean. Making it seem like she’s doing you a favour when really she’s only telling you in advance.’

Logan frowned.

‘Telling me in advance?’ he echoed, feeling strangely wary.

Creed nodded. 

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘You know. What with Charlie being busy and all.’

Logan stiffened.

‘ _Busy?_ ’ he repeated, his tone suddenly dangerous.

Creed didn’t seem to notice.

‘Yeah,’ he said, smirking slightly. He turned to look at Logan. ‘I mean – isn’t he always when Shaw comes in?’

*****

Logan returned to his rooms that night, feeling strangely exhausted. His second talk of the day with Creed had left him filled with a violent rage that not even the thought of seeing Charles could dissipate. Logan had instead directed his feet towards the House gym and training room and had then spent the rest of the afternoon steadily trying to break his knuckles against the biggest and heaviest punching bag that he could find.

It had taken a while, but the anger had eventually left him, only to be replaced with despair. He had then spent the rest of the evening sitting with Charles but, for once, even spending time with his Active was not enough to raise his spirits.

And so he had returned home, angry, exhausted and troubled more deeply than he could say. A state of emotions that was not, he could admit, being helped by the bottle of whisky nestled in at his side, half-drained already as Logan stared at the wall above his television, a scowl on his face.

It was wrong. What was happening – what was _going_ to happen – was very, very wrong. 

He was, he knew, being a hypocrite of immense proportions. He was perfectly happy – well, perhaps _happy_ wasn’t the right word for it – to see Charles pimped out to god knows who on a regular basis most of the time. So what was it about this one particular Assignment that had him so worked up and upset?

Perhaps, Logan thought grimly, it was the fact that the Client in this case was Sebastian fucking Shaw and that his using Charles was a blatant misuse of power on his part, what with his being the goddamned king or director or whatever the hell they called the head of the Dollhouse. Perhaps it was the fact that Frost had deliberately lied to him, knowing how he would react to the news. Perhaps it was the fact that Charles was, presumably, being contracted for a period of five entire days – a length of time almost of unheard of within the Dollhouse for any one Client.

Or perhaps, Logan thought, seething with anger, it was the fact that he, Charles’s _Handler_ , was expected to swan off on holiday to bloody fucking _Aruba_ whilst his charge was left abandoned and alone and defenceless in the hands of someone who was in all probability a massively sick, perverted _bastard_ for five whole fucking days without anyone to watch his back, even though that was Logan’s bloody _job_ , even though that was what he was _there_ for, even though he had promised Charles that he would never, _ever_ allow anything bad to happen to him …

Logan stood up. 

He was still for a moment, blinking away the light haze of alcohol and setting his jaw. Then, his chin raised high with determination, he spun on his heel and stalked over to the computer. He pulled the seat out, switched on the monitor, and loaded up the program. 

Then, with one deep breath, he reached forward and began to type.


End file.
